


Worries

by Fulcrumisthebomb



Series: Fort Max/Rung ficlets [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Self-Service, Spark Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:25:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fulcrumisthebomb/pseuds/Fulcrumisthebomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rung realizes he's broken the patient-doctor boundary with Fort Max, but doesn't understand why. He seeks Ratchet's advice, which is startling.</p><p>*SPOILERS FOR MTMTE #14 ONWARD*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worries

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TekkaChama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TekkaChama/gifts).



> These ficlets are set in an expanded timeframe between _The Incident_ (Overlord) and landing on Luna 1. Now that Fort Max has redeemed himself in general in the eyes of the crew, he is no longer confined to the brig- but rarely leaves his hab suite anyway.

Rung collapsed into his berth with a sigh of relief. It had been a very long cycle, and he had been carrying an annoying charge for half of it. It was a perfectly normal, if somewhat infrequent, occurrence for him just like any other mech, and he was grateful for the quiet and privacy to finally take care of it.

He winced as he remembered the sly remarks from several mecha at Swerve's bar. His charge hadn't been so intense it was noticeable until another mech was close, but unfortunately it _hadn't_ gone unnoticed. By _Skids,_ of all mechs, and while he at least had left it at one comment, others had overheard and chimed in until he decided to leave early. His was a spark born of patience, but even he had limits at times.

Small fingers roamed over his frame, seeking overly sensitive wiring and loosened gaps in his plating. His field flared in pleasure, seeking another to tangle with as his spark chamber slid open without command. It had been quite some time since he'd self serviced, and much, much longer since another's hands had traveled these paths...

In a rare moment of indulgence, he allowed himself to miss talented hands and glossa tracing his frame, another's consciousness melding with his over the hardlines, another's spark arcing brightly to reach for his own. Their race lived to fulfill an archaic sense of function, and merging with another's processes was the ultimate expression of being complete, of being safe and accepted.

Rung _missed_ it. So much.

His back arched as his fingers dipped into the edge of his spark chamber, licks of energy coiling around the tips. They weren't his digits, not in his hazy fantasy; they were larger, heavy with intent, transferring their own charge as they played along the rim. The dark figure in his processor's construction wanted to do this _to_ him, _with_ him, to drive him to the brink of pleasure and leave him hanging, waiting, shivering with need and affection, _pleading_ for Max to plunge his fingers into his spark and blot out the warm wide smile with the intensity-

A second too late he realized, shuddering with a soft cry as overload hit him.

~*~*~*~*~

Surprisingly, it hadn't been difficult to schedule a block of Ratchet's time.

"It's no trouble," Ratchet nodded as he sat across from Rung, settling heavily into the medical berth. "Usually mechs only come in here to exchange random projectiles or bleed all over my floor. I haven't had anyone ask for a consultation in-," He blinked. "A long time."

"It's not a physical ailment," Rung replied quietly, folding his hands neatly in his lap.

"My interest has decreased twenty percent," Ratchet returned wryly.

"I understand this may be outside your area of expertise," Rung said with a small smile, "but as I am the only therapist on the ship, and you have a much wider range of experiences than anyone else here, I thought it best to seek your advice."

"And that's another reason I'm a medic," Ratchet huffed in amusement. "Self-diagnosis is infinitely easier. What's troubling you?"

Rung opened his mouth, shut it, and stared down at his lap, fidgeting.

"Any time now..." Ratchet prompted, and Rung couldn't resist another smile. Definitely best for Ratchet to be a medic.

"I have become emotionally compromised with a patient," Rung said carefully. "But I have not done anything for this patient that I haven't for hundreds of others. While he might be... unique, all my patients are to a more or lesser degree. I..." Rung paused, cycling a long vent before continuing. "I do not understand why this has happened, when I've done nothing different."

"Mmm." Ratchet leaned forward, rubbing his jawline thoughtfully. "I can relate to that."

"Yes?" Rung's optics darted upward hopefully. "This has happened to you?"

"A handful of times," Ratchet nodded, his gaze unfocused. 

"Excellent," Rung said, shoulders relaxing in relief. "What do you suggest?"

An odd expression crossed the medic's face. "You won't like it."

"Ratchet, I came here for your advice," Rung chided. "I cannot promise I will act upon it, but I hold you and your opinions in the highest regard. You know this."

"That _is_ my advice." Ratchet's voice had dropped to a broken rumble. "Act upon your inclinations. Approach this mech and explain what you feel. Don't waste this opportunity, Rung, because it is a rare and precious occurrence." His optics snapped to Rung's, narrowed with a dark emotion the therapist couldn't identify. "Don't waste the time you have together. You don't know how much of it you have. The war may be 'officially' over, but you know life is still a dangerous and volatile state."

Rung sat frozen in his seat, surprised by the harsh, if wise, speech- and the pieces clicked together. "Drift," he blurted, before his hands flew to his mouth, ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to-,"

"I know." Ratchet waved a hand. "I don't need any more pity. I am _buried_ in it."

Rung slipped from his seat, walking up to Ratchet to cover one hand with his. "I am not offering any," he said simply. "Only a share in your sorrow, and immense gratitude for your advice."

Ratchet huffed again, reaching up to flick the tip of one of Rung's audials. "You're welcome."

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, I wouldn't have gotten this done without Gemi and TekkaChama's amazing help!


End file.
